


A Peace Like This

by CSHfic, VSfic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Firelord Iroh (Avatar), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Southern Water Tribe, Zuko doesn't want to be Fire Lord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSHfic/pseuds/CSHfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSfic/pseuds/VSfic
Summary: Zuko’s coronation is fast approaching, Iroh is stepping down, he’s being pulled in seven different directions, and his nation is waiting, and the pressure is mounting, and Zuko—Somethinghas to break.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 533
Collections: Zukka 18+ Chaos Server: Jan 2021 Exchange





	A Peace Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitschvanitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitschvanitas/gifts).



> For the prompt: Zuko decides that he would prefer not to be the Fire Lord, actually, and runs away on another life-changing field trip to the South Pole.

The Royal Tailor tuts at Zuko and forces his arms out from his sides, fussing with the seam on the shoulder of his robe. Zuko thinks they look fine, they fit _fine_ , but they’re for his coronation and that means they have to look perfect. He has to be perfect.

Uncle’s advisor has made that painfully clear, prattling on about the scheduled ceremonies, what Zuko’s meant to do, and where Zuko’s meant to go. He clears his throat again to draw Zuko’s attention back, like his attention hasn’t been split in seven different directions for weeks now. It’s a long list. It’s going to be _hours_ of this, in front of the Fire Sages, in the throne room, in front of his people on the coronation plaza, and he…

The door swings open and another servant enters, wringing a closed scroll in her hands. Zuko watches her approach like a wild animal, and the tailor jabs him with a stray pin, and Uncle’s advisor is still talking, he hasn’t stopped talking since he walked in here minutes or hours ago and ambushed Zuko when he couldn’t _escape_ —

“Prince Zuko, my apologies for the interruption, but you’re running late for you meeting with...”

Zuko doesn’t realize that he’s yanked the robe over his head until the pins are sticking into his palms. He forces his grip to relax, and it eases the stabbing in his fingers but does nothing for the sharp pain under his ribs.

The tailor looks scandalized, like she wants to rip the fabric from his hands. He’s ruining her hard work, the servant is still waiting on him expectantly, and Uncle’s advisor is frowning, dissatisfied at being ignored, drumming his fingers impatiently against his elbow.

“Excuse me,” Zuko says. He doesn’t wait for a reply as he shoves his way past them, yanking his own robe back on as he goes. No one tries to follow him. No one stops him at the door. It feels wrong, how easy it is, to make his way through the halls, to push past the confused guards into the open air outside the palace.

It feels like the first real breath he’s taken in months. By the time the guards have scrambled for a palanquin Zuko is already down the stairs and out the gates. He knows exactly where he’s going. He’s been fantasizing for months, but he’d never actually planned to go through with it.

Zuko pushes through packed streets that smell of fish and working bodies, not at all fit for a prince and yet, somehow, he earns fewer sideways glances in that short walk than he has in months of walking through the palace halls.

No one cares who he is, out here. No one wants anything from him. No one _cares_.

Zuko grabs the first man he sees, lounging in front of a sloop that Zuko hopes will take passengers or, at least, can be persuaded.

The man freezes halfway through a snarl, a hundred tiny expressions crossing over his face, annoyance, confusion, shock before settling on complete bafflement.

“How much for passage to the Southern Water Tribe?” Zuko asks. The man stares at him, mouth parted just slightly. Zuko doesn’t have—anything, no money, no luggage, just the casual palace robes he’d worn to his fitting, so he just pulls the pin out of his gold hairpiece and shoves the entire thing into the man’s hands. “Is this enough?”

“You... now?” the man asks, finally finding his tongue.

“Now,” Zuko says. He doesn’t wait for him to invite him aboard, just stalks up the gangway onto the ship. An equally-snarling woman pokes her head up from below deck, and Zuko stares at her, and watches her stare wild-eyed at the man behind him. Zuko thinks, from the way her eyes flicker, that he’s gesturing at her, trying to explain without words, probably, that Zuko has gone insane. He doesn’t want to look.

He should go back. He knows it as surely as he knows that he’s _not going to_ , as surely as he can feel the tension in his chest ease with every step away from the palace, lifting with the hesitant drag of the gangplank behind him.

“I’d like to see my room,” he says. He’s actually a little proud of how reasonable he sounds, when his mind is still buzzing with residual dread, and the rational part of him is screaming at his impulsiveness.

“...First door on the right,” the man says. Zuko should get his name. He’s been extremely rude.

“Thank you,” Zuko says. He’s too exhausted to do anything else, and too afraid he’ll change his mind. He leaves them to hiss angry whispers at each other as he disappears below deck.

The snow is fresh enough that it barely whispers under his feet as Zuko makes his way down the familiar winding walkways. The village has changed a lot in the years since Zuko first crashed through their walls, and it’s been months since he visited last, but he finds his way easily in the moonlight. It’s dark at odd hours in the South, but Zuko is fairly certain that they’d also arrived in the middle of the night. The ship he’d arrived on has already left. Captain Chun hadn’t wanted to stay any longer than necessary, once Zuko had been dropped off and his ship had been resupplied, so they’d set sail immediately.

There’s no turning back now. Maybe it should make him anxious, but Zuko feels lighter than he has in weeks. He steps up to a familiar door and knocks immediately, hard enough that a lump of snow falls onto his unlined shoes. He shakes them out while he waits, but after a few long seconds of no sound from inside Zuko gives the door another impatient thump. The streets are empty now, but Zuko doesn’t want to loiter where he can be stared at, and it's cold, and he’s exhausted.

He’s contemplating just… letting himself in, and asking for forgiveness later, when the door is finally yanked inward.

He definitely woke Sokka up. He’s sleep rumpled, half-wrapped in a fur he must have dragged from bed with him. There’s a little crease running from his cheek over the bridge of his nose, the indentation of a pillow, and something warm lights up in his chest at the sight of it. The last of the twisting anxiety he’d carried with him from the Fire Nation burns away, as Zuko watches his expression flick from annoyance to surprise, before immediately tipping into concern.

“I’m fine,” Zuko says, before Sokka can ask. It comes out a bit _too_ insistent, and the attempt to reassure him seems to have the opposite effect. Sokka gestures wordlessly for Zuko to come inside, watching him like he’s a skittish ostrich horse, like he’s one loud noise away from spooking.

Zuko knows he looks terrible. He’s not even remotely dressed for the weather, wearing the same worn palace robe he’d left the Fire Nation in. He hasn’t bothered to put his hair up, a bit tangled now from the ocean wind, or fix his clothes, wrinkled from traveling. His shoes are wet.

It’s much warmer inside, even just in the entryway. Zuko takes a second to kick the snow off his heels, because if he focuses on that then he can put off Sokka’s questions. He knows Sokka’s going to _ask_ , and Zuko dreads having to admit that… that he has no idea what he’s doing here.

The decorations inside his home are so in character for Sokka that it makes Zuko smile. For one thing, the room is full to the point of clutter. Zuko has to step around a too-large desk absolutely covered in papers, drawings, and books just to get into the main area of the living space. There are furs all over the walls and floor, a diagram pinned here, a map there. A—whatever that thing is, a solid metal casing set aside to expose its guts for tinkering, shoved up into the corner of the room to clear space.

Sokka sits down in front of the fire. He pats the fur beside him gently, urging Zuko to sit with him.

“So,” Sokka says.

“Do you mind?” Zuko interrupts, gesturing at the low fire. Sokka shoots him another concerned frown, unhappy with the deflection. He shrugs.

“Go ahead,” Sokka says. He waits for Zuko to feed a small flame into the hearth, stoking the fire higher. It gives him a chance to collect his thoughts, which helps. He knows better than to think Sokka will let him get away with showing up without warning _and_ without explanation.

They sit in silence for a minute. The fire rises and falls with Zuko’s breath, and Sokka watches it, transfixed, and very clearly trying not to watch Zuko, trying not to pressure him even though Zuko can see by the line of his shoulders that he’s practically bursting with concern.

Zuko is selfish, though, so he just takes a minute to collect himself. And Sokka isn’t selfish, so he doesn’t push.

He takes another quiet breath, and the fire flickers.

“So,” Zuko says. “You’re… you look good.”

It’s not really where he meant to start. It sounds absolutely absurd coming from him, like they’ve just crossed paths in a teashop, not like Zuko’s just barged into Sokka’s home in the dead of night. Sokka doesn’t laugh, though. He rests a tentative hand on Zuko’s knee, and Zuko stares at it, unsure what he’s supposed to do now that it’s there.

“Zuko, are you okay?” Sokka asks. “What’s going on? What are you _doing_ here?”

Sokka’s hand is still there. Should he… should he take it? Move it? He raises his own hand, nervously, from his lap, resettles on his own crossed ankle. There. Within reach, if Sokka… wants.

He won’t, but that’s fine.

Sokka is watching him, patiently, waiting for an explanation. He’s waiting for an explanation, because this is… not normal. Zuko has woken him up in the middle of the night and he doesn’t even have a good reason. His uncle is right, he never thinks things through.

Zuko swallows, and tries to put the feeling to words.

“I just felt like...”

He _felt_ like he was drowning, like if he stayed in the Fire Palace for another moment he was going to… he doesn’t even know, he was—

“...I needed a vacation,” Zuko says.

He looks at the hand. He looks at Sokka, whose face twists with confusion, or disbelief, and—oh, spirits, what was Zuko even _thinking_? Why is he _here_?

“Which I’ve done now,” Zuko says quickly. Spirits... spirits, he’s so stupid. He needs to leave, what is he _doing here_ , arriving unannounced like this? Zuko feels an embarrassed flush rising in his cheeks. His heart thumps as he tries to lean away, “So... sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Sorry. I should go. I’m…”

“Ah, no,” Sokka says, grabbing both of Zuko’s shoulders before he can move to stand. “It’s the middle of the night, you’re not going anywhere.”

Sokka pats his shoulders, gently, like he’s fragile. Zuko lets him, patiently, like he needs the comfort. _Which he doesn’t._

“Besides, you can’t leave now. You just got here,” Sokka says. He only pulls his hands back after he seems confident Zuko isn’t going to make another run for it.

(Zuko might, still, but he appreciates the trust.)

“You can stay as long as… wait,” Sokka cuts himself off. “Your uncle knows you’re here, right?”

Zuko... hadn’t told Uncle he was leaving, no, but plenty of people had seen him go. Zuko thinks of the royal headpiece still sitting in his pocket, because Captain Chun had refused to take it as payment no matter how much Zuko pressed him. Captain Chun must be getting payment for the voyage from _somewhere_ , so—

“Yes,” Zuko says, after a moment too long. “Uncle knows.”

“Great,” Sokka says, after another too long moment, where they both watch each other and know that _Uncle knows_ and _I told him_ aren’t the same thing. “Well then. How about we get some sleep?”

Sokka’s hand falls on his shoulder again, but this time it’s not to hold him down. It takes every ounce of Zuko’s self control not to lean in. Zuko nods, instead, and Sokka’s hand slides down to his elbow to help him up, like he doesn’t quite trust him to stand.

His smile is so reassuring, arm resting over his shoulder in a half-hug. Warmth floods through him. Before Zuko can think better of it he’s pulling him in for real. Sokka doesn’t move at first, hands hovering, startled, over Zuko’s back for just long enough that he starts to grow self-conscious. He wilts a little, feeling awkward, but before he can pull away Sokka drags him in for a proper hug. 

He puts his chin on Zuko’s shoulder, nearly crushing him with how tightly he holds on. Zuko sighs and tilts his head against Sokka’s neck. His grip is solid, and Zuko hopes that means he’d missed him, too, or… or maybe Sokka can just tell how desperately he needs this. He should be embarrassed by how easily he sinks into his arms. His stomach twists with a strange longing, being held and still selfishly wishing that it could always be this easy, that there were no obligations waiting on the other side to take this from him. Sokka waits a few long moments for Zuko to just breathe, wrapped in his arms, fingers clutching the back of his sleep shirt maybe a little too hard.

“Great,” Sokka repeats. “I’ll get you a bedroll, and… yeah. We can… figure some stuff out in the morning.”

Zuko reluctantly lets go, enough that Sokka can pull away.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight,” Zuko says softly, but the words feel more like a thank you.

Sokka shakes him awake the next morning at an hour that should be _inhumane_. Zuko’s not used to being the one who’s slow to rise, but he’s exhausted, and… _how_ is Sokka so chipper?

“Rise and shine, buddy. I’ve got stuff to do, and you’re coming with me,” Sokka says.

Zuko glares at him from under a pile of furs. The air outside his cocoon is miserably cold, and Zuko is deeply reluctant to pull the blanket any further down than he needs to glare. Sokka doesn’t even seem to notice, still dressed in sleep clothes and socked feet. Sokka pets his hair, consolingly.

“It’s not even dawn,” Zuko grumbles. His head is a little fuzzy from travel, but he can at least feel that the sun is hours from rising. Sokka laughs at him.

“Dude, it’s almost ten,” Sokka says, and laughs again when Zuko jerks upright. He shivers immediately in the sudden cold, but is startled from further panic by a coat to the face. Zuko flushes when he realizes that it’s one of Sokka’s coats, and it smells like him, and—

“Why did you let me sleep so late?” Zuko asks, yanking the coat over his head to hide his face. He catches the tail end of Sokka’s shrug when he pokes his head through the top.

“You seemed like you needed it,” Sokka says. “Now come on.”

Sokka lends him some boots, and then spends the rest of the morning dragging him around the village. He doesn’t ask more questions, which Zuko both appreciates and dreads. He also doesn’t take pity on him, even though it’s _freezing_ and dark out, and no human should be this happy tromping through the snow, no matter what the reason.

Sokka drags him down to the village center, first, to find them some breakfast. Zuko nibbles on the corner of a piece of flatbread and tries to ignore the way his stomach rolls as Sokka practically inhales his own food. He trails after Sokka as he leads him toward a large building up the road. There’s a man waiting for them in the entryway that greets Zuko like a friend, completely unconcerned by his presence as Sokka settles in to walk with him.

They’re all so informal compared to what Zuko is used to in the Fire Nation that it's not until they’re sitting down for their third meeting that he realizes that these are all official Southern Water Tribe business, and… should he be here? Is he allowed? But Sokka seems unconcerned, and so do the rest, so Zuko just awkwardly folds his hands and follows his their lead.

It’s actually… kind of fun. Part of that he owes to Sokka—

(Zuko doesn’t think there is anything he could do with Sokka that he wouldn’t enjoy.)

—but part of it is that the people Sokka introduces him to aren’t like the rigid, two-faced politicians in the Fire Nation. They’re just normal, friendly people with something important to say, and they don’t mince words trying to say it.

Sokka’s fourth appointment for the morning spends half the scheduled meeting time fussing over whether they’ve eaten lunch yet. She’s scandalized when she learns he’d only managed about half his flatbread for breakfast. She forces a fish cake on him, and on Sokka for good measure, before she finally allows Sokka to distract her with business.

The woman takes just as long to say goodbye as she did to say hello. Zuko lingers in the doorway while he waits for Sokka, picking at the fish cake even though he’s not really hungry. A few people shuffle past them. Most of them don’t pay him any mind, like it’s perfectly normal that he’s here.

Cold air washes in as the front door opens, and Zuko turns almost mechanically to give the newcomer another polite nod before he realizes who it is.

Katara stops dead in the entryway, and the elder behind her walks directly into her. Katara puts a hand back to steady her without looking. She stares at Zuko, shocked, until he raises his hand to give a tiny wave.

“Zuko!” Katara shouts. She gives him no warning, just sprints and throws herself at him. Zuko rocks back a little with the force as she wraps her arms around him. “When did you get here?”

“Last night,” Zuko says. He gives her a brief, one-handed hug, because his other hand is still occupied with his half-eaten fish cake.

“Last—Sokka!” Katara yells, “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to wake you up in the middle of the night!” Sokka yells back.

“You could have told me this morning!”

“He was sleeping!”

“ _You_ weren’t, stupid!”

Zuko gives Katara’s shoulder an awkward pat, and she seems to remember that she’s still hugging him, and shouting in his ear. Katara squints at Sokka one last time, annoyed, then lets Zuko go.

“Are you going to stay long?” Katara asks. “Aang is coming to visit soon. You can say hi!”

“It was kind of a last-minute thing,” Sokka says, before Zuko can drum up the willpower to say _I want to stay, but I can’t, because Uncle is stepping down, and they’re making me Fire Lord_. “He doesn’t know how long he’s staying.”

“Who’s this?” the woman who’d been walking with Katara asks. Zuko had almost forgotten her, and that they’d interrupted them both.

“This is Zuko,” Sokka says, and Zuko braces himself for the rest of the title, _the Fire Prince, future Fire Lord._

It doesn’t come. The woman’s face lights up immediately.

“Oh, so _this_ is your friend,” she says, sounding suddenly delighted. Zuko is so caught off guard by that, by the idea that Sokka is talking about him to anyone, that he doesn’t notice her coming closer until two warm, knobby hands wrap around his face.

He just manages to resist flinching, forcing himself to relax, as she turns his face towards hers.

“Uh,” he says, trying to glance at his friends, but Sokka and Katara are standing a little too far on his left to see, and wow, her grip is strong.

“Hm,” she says. She turns to squint at Sokka, and Zuko seizes the chance to glance over at him, too, trying to convey _what is happening_ and also maybe _help_ with his eyes.

Sokka is already rolling his eyes, looking away. He feels out of the loop, somehow, but... he had crashed into Sokka’s life last night unannounced, so he can stand to feel a little left out in exchange.

“ _Hm_ ,” she says again, with slightly more emphasis, this time at Sokka.

“All right, leave him alone,” Sokka says.

She pats his cheek and lets him go. Zuko straightens, and then glances at Sokka, because… what? Was that okay? He’s not really sure what just happened, only that it felt like a test, and he’s not sure if he passed.

“When are you going to finally take care of that eyesore of a storehouse, hm?” she asks Sokka. “Or are you too busy for me? Got better things to do?”

For some reason she jabs a bony finger into Zuko’s side at that, and Sokka laughs.

“How about we take a look right now?” he asks. “If you’re not busy?”

Katara gives them both a little wave. “Meet me for dinner,” she demands, and then grumbling, adds, “I can’t _believe_ you didn’t tell me Zuko was visiting! I would have rescheduled my classes.”

“And deprive all those hungry minds?” Sokka asks, hands clasped over his heart. “For shame, Katara—”

__She swats at him, and Sokka ducks behind Zuko, laughing._ _

__

__

__The shed she shows them—or at least, what Zuko assumes had once been a shed—is a precariously-leaning mass of snow, planks of wood poking out at jagged angles like misaligned teeth. The front door stands open, enough to see a pair of arctic hens pecking around the inside._ _

__She shoos them away with one foot, and somehow manages to keep her balance despite the ice, and the fact that she really looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over. Zuko resists the urge to shift closer, just in case, because he doesn’t want to offend her._ _

__“It came down during the last snowstorm,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “It was just for storage, anyway. I’ve already moved everything worth keeping out of there.”_ _

__Sokka frowns at that. “You should have let me do that,” he says. “What if it had come down while you were in there?”_ _

__She sniffs at him._ _

__“I can move a few boxes,” she says. “I’m not that old! I’d have just left it to come down on it’s own, but Yuruk keeps grumbling that it’s gonna come down on the house.”_ _

__“Well, I can probably pull it down tomorrow,” Sokka says. “Or we can ask Katara to come by. It’d be easier, with a waterbender.”_ _

__“I could melt it?” Zuko suggests. “If you just want it taken down, I mean. I can...” It’s not until the suggestion leaves his lips that he realizes that offering to destroy someone’s property with firebending might… not be appropriate. Not just because of the firebending, but also more generally just because of who he is. He tucks his hands into his sleeves and hastily adds, “Or maybe not. I wouldn’t want to…”_ _

__Zuko trails off. She gives him a long, suspicious look._ _

__“Just don’t melt anything that doesn’t need melting,” she says finally, “and I don’t see why not.”_ _

__Zuko glances to Sokka for confirmation. Sokka just shrugs, like it really is that simple._ _

__

__

__They meet up with Katara for dinner, and almost immediately she drags Sokka off with her into the other room. When they come back it’s clear they’ve been talking about him, and that they’re all supposed to pretend that they haven't been. She insists on cooking, and insists more firmly that Zuko isn’t allowed to help._ _

__Katara is terrible at subterfuge, though. She keeps watching him with big, worried eyes, ladling so much five flavor soup into his bowl that he can barely dip his spoon without it overflowing._ _

Sokka sits down right next to him, even though there’s plenty of room around the hearth. He’s simultaneously much too close, and much too far away. Katara doesn’t even bat an eye. The look she gives Sokka is almost… well, he can’t be reading her right, because the look on her face is almost _approving_ , and Zuko doesn’t know what to make of that.

__

__

He is, technically, on vacation. He tells himself that's why its so easy for Sokka to cajole Zuko into lying with his head on Sokka’s thigh. Neither of them is acknowledging it, which is a _good_ thing, because Sokka is already a very tactile person, but if Zuko thinks too hard about how easy it was for Sokka to convince him to lie down and relax, he is going to have another crisis, and he really only has the energy for the one.

Sokka’s fingers in his hair feel nice. They don’t need to talk about that, either.

“I don’t think I’ve been this calm since we were all on Ember Island together,” Zuko says.

__“Dude,” Sokka laughs, incredulous, “the world was ending.”_ _

__Zuko shifts a little. “I know that,” he says. He’s annoyed by how defensive he sounds._ _

__“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… that’s really messed up. If you hate being the Crown Prince so much, why would you want to be Fire Lord?”_ _

__“I don’t want to be Fire Lord,” Zuko says. “I don’t have a choice.”_ _

__Sokka frowns._ _

__“You always have a choice, Zuko,” Sokka says. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. You could leave tomorrow, run off and… join the circus, or the Kyoshi Warriors, or open a tea shop… you could even stay here, if you think you can manage to get up before noon without the sun to help you.”_ _

__Zuko’s guts twist with longing at the suggestion. He wants, desperately, to agree._ _

__He scoffs instead, more theatrically than Sokka deserves, half to convince himself. “I can’t. I have a duty to—”_ _

“I’m not saying you _should_ do that, just that you can,” Sokka insists. He scratches blunt nails against Zuko’s scalp. It’s very distracting. That might be the point. “You’re always worrying about what you should do for the Fire Nation. I wish you’d think about what _you_ want.”

__Zuko closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at Sokka. He already knows what he wants. He thinks about it all the time, especially now that he’s come here, but… it isn’t going to work. He has to go back to the Fire Nation, and Sokka has to stay here. The distance will hurt him as much as Sokka’s wide-eyed optimism that it would work out, anyway._ _

__It’s a nice thought, though_ _

__

__

__Uncle’s ship arrives the next day._ _

__Zuko can’t say he’s surprised. If anything, it’s strange that he hadn’t arrived right on Zuko’s heels, although Zuko isn’t certain whether that was because Uncle was indulging him with a few days of freedom, or whether he’d had trouble finding where he’d gone._ _

__He’s obviously come to bring him home. Zuko doesn’t want to go, but Uncle has indulged him enough. Zuko’s been neglecting his responsibilities for the coronation, leaving everything for his Uncle and the staff and maybe even Azula to prepare for him._ _

Zuko isn’t nervous when he goes to greet Uncle at his ship, although that says more about his uncle than it does about him. Sokka hugs him before he goes, and doesn’t demand his coat back, even though Zuko won’t need it in the Fire Nation. Zuko reminds himself that he’ll see him and all the rest of his friends again soon, even if he’ll no longer be _Prince_ Zuko when he does.

__His uncle smiles when Zuko knocks on the door to his quarters, and when he invites Zuko inside he’s completely unsurprised to see that there is already tea waiting. Uncle slides a cup across the table for him, a silent invitation to sit._ _

__“Why do you think I’m here, Prince Zuko?” Uncle asks once Zuko settles across from him._ _

__“To take me home,” Zuko says. Uncle hums, and sips his tea._ _

__“Do you want to come home?” he asks, after a moment._ _

__Zuko resists the impulse to sigh. He’s not ready to have this argument again, especially because he’s arguing against himself. But Uncle was only ever meant to be an interim Fire Lord, and Zuko has made him wait longer than was fair, hoping that someday he would feel ready._ _

“Yes,” Zuko lies. He refuses to back down when Uncle frowns. He’s realized he’ll _never_ feel ready, which means it would just be pointless to put the coronation off any longer. Uncle clearly isn’t convinced, though, so he quickly adds, “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have left everything to you. It’s my coronation.”

__Uncle hums, again, and sips his tea, again. He pauses for a long moment, savoring the flavor, considering Zuko’s words._ _

__“Prince Zuko,” Uncle begins, “if it is a man’s birthright to lead the Fire Nation, you must believe that it would be selfish to ignore this duty for his own happiness?”_ _

__Zuko feels some of the tension go out of his shoulders, seeing that Uncle understands._ _

__“Yes, Uncle,” he says quietly. Becoming the Fire Lord is Zuko’s birthright. It’s his duty._ _

__“Especially at the cost of the happiness of someone he loves?” Uncle adds._ _

__Zuko nods. It was selfish of Zuko to come here, and leave Uncle to manage without him. He shouldn’t have done it, but… it’s out of his system now. It won’t happen again. Zuko nods again, to himself this time, and lifts his teacup to his lips._ _

__“Then you agree that becoming the Fire Lord was never your burden,” Uncle says._ _

__Zuko freezes._ _

__“I…” Zuko stumbles. He puts his cup down with too much force, sloshing tea onto the table. “No, that’s not—”_ _

“If we are speaking of duty and birthrights,” Uncle says serenely, “then the responsibility falls to _me_ , Prince Zuko, not to you.”

__“Uncle,” Zuko tries to interrupt, but he only shakes his head calmly._ _

__“My brother was never meant to be Fire Lord,” Uncle says. “In my grief I allowed... many things which should never have happened. I will not allow you to cut off your own happiness, now. Not for me, and not for duty.”_ _

__“But your tea shop,” Zuko says._ _

__“There is tea in the Fire Nation,” Uncle says._ _

__“I’m old enough,” Zuko says. “Beyond old enough. We’ve already delayed my coronation once.”_ _

__Uncle laughs good naturedly. “I am not so old myself, you know,” he says. “I’ve still got a few good years in me.”_ _

__“You’ve already… Uncle, you’ve given up enough for me. You don’t need to...”_ _

__“I do,” he says, with such finality that Zuko’s next protest dies in his throat. Uncle looks so steady, and so sure of himself. His expression softens as he holds Zuko’s gaze, no less determined, but with a familiar fondness that makes Zuko feel small again._ _

__“A father owes his son happiness, Zuko, not the other way around,” Uncle says. “I want you to be happy, and at least for now, I know that your happiness is not in the Fire Nation.”_ _

“Uncle,” Zuko says, but it’s suddenly difficult to speak. Maybe that was his uncle’s plan all along, that he doesn’t want to deny it. That he _can’t_ deny it.

__“Thank you,” Zuko says. Uncle smiles at him, pleased, a little smug, as they finish their tea. When they say their goodbyes, his hand is simultaneously heavy on Zuko’s shoulder, and lighter than air._ _

__

__

__Zuko heads straight back to Sokka’s, before he can lose his nerve. This time he doesn’t knock, just lets himself inside and kicks his snow-covered boots against the wall._ _

__“Zuko!” Sokka says, startling to a half-rise from where he’d been sitting. “I thought you were leaving. Did Iroh accidentally,” Sokka blinks, looking a little skeptical to even be suggesting it, “leave without you?”_ _

__Sokka clearly hadn’t expected him to come back, but if he can forgive Zuko showing up unannounced he can apparently forgive an extended stay, too._ _

__Zuko means to say that he’s not going back. He means to tell him that Uncle isn’t stepping down. He means to tell him that he’s never felt more free, and never felt more ungrateful, either._ _

__What he actually says is, “Did you mean it?”_ _

__His voice comes too quiet, and embarrassingly self-conscious._ _

__For a moment Sokka just looks baffled, because of course he’d suggested it in passing, and Zuko was the one who’d clung to the thought like a drowning man._ _

__He forces his mouth to form around the words._ _

“When you said, earlier,” Zuko says, because Uncle wants him to be happy, and the least he can do, _the least he can do_ is try, “When you said I could say here, with you. Did you mean it?”

Sokka stares at him for a second too long, long enough that Zuko wonders if he’d heard him. But of course he’d heard him, which means that the answer is _no_ , and he’s trying to think of a kind way to say it. Uncle has already left, but maybe it’s not too late to flag them down—

__A slow smile spreads across Sokka’s face. It’s difficult not to smile back, even as his stomach twists._ _

__“I thought you couldn’t stay,” he says. “Something about duty?”_ _

__“Uncle was very convincing,” Zuko says._ _

__“What, just your uncle?” Sokka asks. “I thought I made a pretty compelling argument.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Zuko says. “I—yeah, you were right. And… I’ve thought about it.”_ _

__“Hm?” Sokka asks. He takes a step closer, but Zuko doesn’t feel crowded, or trapped. It feels like an invitation._ _

__It’s now or never. Either he admits it, or he chooses the coward’s way out. Either Sokka feels the same way, or Zuko moves in with Katara to wallow in embarrassment and rejection—_ _

__“About… what I want,” Zuko says._ _

__“Mhm,” Sokka says, encouragingly, and it takes all of Zuko’s attention not to get distracted when he takes Zuko’s hand—his fingers are so warm compared to Zuko’s, chilled from the outside air—and steps a little closer, so their toes are nearly touching._ _

__“I want to stay here, if you meant it,” Zuko says, “and I want… you to...”_ _

Sokka’s lips brush his, and then Sokka’s hands come around his waist, and Zuko can barely feel it because he’s still wearing that stupid, oversized coat. Sokka’s still smiling, and the angle is a little bad, and Zuko is on _fire_ , heat uncurling in his chest like it’s the first spark he’s ever made.

__His heart is pounding in his throat, and when Sokka reels him in, Zuko takes that as permission to touch. Sokka isn’t wearing a stupid, bulky coat, and Zuko runs his hands almost nervously over the plains of his back, half convinced Sokka is going to push him away._ _

__He doesn’t. Sokka just kisses him, fingers bunched so thoroughly in Zuko’s coat that he couldn’t run away if he tried. Zuko feels like he’s burning up. Like, that may be a real possibility, if they don’t stop—_ _

__That thought is almost enough to snap him out of it. At least, it’s enough to make him pull back a little, even if his lips are still tingling and his thoughts are a fuzzy mess. Fuzzier still, when Sokka smiles at him again, and there’s nothing innocent about that smile, even as he loosens his hold on Zuko’s coat, smoothing down the fur or maybe just enjoying running his hands down Zuko’s sides._ _

( _Zuko_ is enjoying it.)

__“So,” Sokka says. He’s grinning, and he looks completely unflustered, which just isn’t fair when Zuko feels one soft touch away from combusting. “In case that wasn’t clear… yeah, I meant it.”_ _

__“That’s… good,” Zuko says, with his very last coherent thought.__

Sokka snorts, and it’s _definitely_ in a making-fun kind of way, but it isn’t mean.

__“I think so, too,” he agrees, and leans in to kiss him again._ _


End file.
